


Hands To Yourself

by stumblinginthestars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bartender Castiel, M/M, Protective Castiel, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, kinda angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3478991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stumblinginthestars/pseuds/stumblinginthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean goes to a bar in hopes of seeing the attractive bartender he's developed a small crush on. Instead, he gets the attention of another man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands To Yourself

 

                Dean likes this bar. Sure, the drinks are kind of pricey and it’s a tad crowded most of the time, but it’s a good place to grab a drink after a long day at work. It has _nothing_ to do with the bartender despite all of Sam’s accusations and teasing and texts laced with sarcastic heart-eyed emojis. It’s just… A really good bar.

                Dean steps out of his car into the biting January cold of Kansas. He walks from the lot across the street towards the neon light of the bar, one hand buried in his coat’s pocket to remain warm while he uses his other hand to call Sam. “Gonna grab a beer. Wanna come?” he asks after his brother picks up.

                Dean reaches the front of the bar as Sam groans, “I’ve got college tomorrow, Dean. Plus, I really don’t want to watch you drool over the bartender tonight.”

                “What?” Dean scoffs, face growing red from the biting cold and embarrassment. He kicks at a pile of dirty snow. “I-I do not— How about you shut up?”

                Sam sighs and Dean can hear the bitchface through the phone. “Sure. Okay, Dean. Whatever. But I’m not going out on a Wednesday night. Maybe Friday?”

                Dean sighs and nods, saying, “Alright. Friday it is. I’m gonna grab a quick drink then I’ll be home.”

                The brothers exchange ‘goodbyes’ before Dean steps into the bar and slips his phone into the pocket of his leather jacket. His lips tilt upwards slightly as he heads towards the bar, winding his way in between college students mingling and middle-aged men drinking away their stress. He catches sight of the unruly mop of brown hair behind the bar and feels his heart beat a little faster. _Castiel_ is the man’s name. It’s strange, but Dean kind of likes the way it tastes on his tongue. Castiel is also twenty-two—the same age as Dean. He’s been frequenting the bar for a few weeks, but that’s all he really knows about the man. He self-consciously runs a hand through his hair as his eyes sweep in search of an open stool. He finds one near the end and plops down. The bartender’s blue eyes catch his for a moment and he waves one hand in greeting. He watches the man mix a martini for one of the college girls, pouring the mix into a dainty glass before turning back towards the racks of alcohols that were lit with bright blue lights that accentuated the man’s eyes.

                “Heya, Dean-o,” a head of floppy, golden-brown hair is suddenly blocking Dean’s view of Castiel and he reels back slightly.

                “Hello, Gabriel,” Dean greets the other bartender, playing it off as though he had not been checking out the man’s co-worker.

                “Long time no see, what’s the haps, paps?” Gabriel questions with a smirk.

                “Not much, just had a long day at the shop,” Dean replies awkwardly. He can never tell if Gabe is really interested or if he’s just messing with him.

                “Cool. So, are you single?” Gabriel is suddenly leaning forward on one elbow, face one foot from Dean’s.

                “What?” Dean asks with a frown.

                “You heard me. Anyone special in your life?” he prods, raising one eyebrow.

                “Sorry, uhm, wh-why?” Dean is visibly getting more flustered at the questions.

                “Also, which way do you swing? Strictly a ladies’-man? Or are you more for handsome men like myself?” Gabriel steps back to gesture to himself with flourish. “Or do you go both ways?”

                Dean feels his face getting hot and he swallows. Sure, he’s bisexual, but he’s only just come to terms with it within the past year. Plus, Kansas is not exactly the most accepting of all places. He looks around uncomfortably to see if anyone is hearing this conversation. Luckily, the group beside Dean had left or else he would be even more embarrassed. “So what if I am or not? Is it any of your damn business?” he snaps, hands clenched in fists in his lap.

                “No. It’s not.” A gravelly voice sounds behind Gabriel.

                Gabriel steps aside and looks up at Castiel with a shrug. “Oopsie-daisy,” he quips at the stone-cold glare Castiel is giving him before slipping away to flirt with a group of tall blonde girls on the opposite end of the bar.

                Dean presses his lips together, thoroughly embarrassed that Castiel heard that. But he just squares his shoulders, preparing himself if the beautiful bartender happens to be a homophobe. Castiel sets a glass of whiskey—Dean’s usual—on a napkin before him, sighing deeply. “I apologize for Gabriel. He’s… intrusive and lacks social tact.” He says this and Dean’s shoulders relax.

                “No, uh, it’s alright.” Dean shrugs, twisting the glass around.

                “Well, that is on the house,” Castiel says, pink lips turning up slightly. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

                Dean gives a thumbs-up before taking a big gulp of his drink to hide the smile and flush on his face. He watches Castiel walk back to another customer before looking back to the amber liquid in his glass. He twirls the glass in his hand, listening to the quiet music pumping through the bar, voices of people laughing and shouting greetings, and rustling of papers brought by college kids at the booths against the wall. Dean finishes his glass, waving at Castiel for another when the empty stool to his right is suddenly filled. Dean looks at the man that is now seated beside him, appreciating his well-maintained goatee before turning back to Castiel who is setting his second drink before him.

                “I’ll have what he’s having,” the man beside Dean says to Castiel before angling his body towards Dean.

                Dean smirks around the lip of his glass as he takes a sip. He may be new to the whole flirting-with-guys game, but he knows when he’s being hit on. He sets his drink down and looks over at the man beside him.

                “Hey, there,” the man says, putting a hand out. “The name’s Gordon.”

                “Dean,” Dean replies, clasping the man’s hand in his own and giving it a shake.

                Gordon’s hand squeezes Dean’s tightly before a lowball glass filled with Crown Royal and ice is suddenly set in front of him, hitting the bar with a loud ‘clack.’ Dean looks at Castiel briefly as Gordon and his hands separate, but the bartender is already turned around and fiddling with a few liquor bottles on the display. Dean’s focus is pulled back to Gordon as the man laughs under his breath. “Someone isn’t getting a very good tip,” he quips.

                Dean chuckles half-heartedly, taking another drink to avoid replying.

                “So, Dean, I couldn’t help but notice you were sitting alone.” Gordon says, leaning towards him, glass in his right hand. “You waiting for someone?”

                “Uhm, no. No, I’m not,” Dean says as he quirks a grin at Gordon.

                “Now, I can’t believe that,” Gordon says, eyes travelling down Dean’s body in a possessive way that makes Dean shift in his seat uneasily. “What is someone as delicious as you doing here alone?”

                Dean huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he takes a long drink, finishing off his second glass and feeling the burn on its way down. “Why are _you_ here alone?” he flirts back, aware that he is just repeating the man’s question.

“Well, I was hoping to get rid of some stress.” Gordon says suggestively. “And I think I know of a pretty good stress-reliever we could try out.”

A hand is on Dean’s knee and he jumps a little at the abruptness of Gordon’s touch. Gordon lifts his free hand and gestures to Dean’s empty glass. Castiel is there after a second with another glass. “Are you alright, Dean?” he asks and Dean looks up from the drink to see Castiel tilting his head, concern etched in the lines on his forehead.

                Gordon is staring at him, too, and Dean just nods. “… I’m fine. Thanks,” he says, lifting the new glass in a salute and Castiel drifts away again, shooting him a look.

                Dean takes another drink, trying to loosen up. He’s only been on one date with a man before, so maybe he’s just nervous? He tries to reason out why he is so uncomfortable under Gordon’s dark gaze. Why he feels trapped underneath Gordon’s grip on his knee that is slowly travelling up his thigh…

                “Woah, there,” Dean says, keeping his voice somewhat playful as he stands in order to detach his upper thigh from Gordon’s needy grasp.

                “Oh, c’mon, Dean,” Gordon says, voice low. “You know you want it. I mean, you were practically begging someone to come over, sitting alone like that.”

                Dean opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. _Was_ he subconsciously hoping someone would come over?

                “You’re just too fucking pretty,” Gordon leans in with a whisper, hand moving to grab the swell of Dean’s ass through his jeans. Dean flinches, releasing a stunned, “oh!” at the feeling. A second later, Castiel is up over the bar, face inches from Gordon’s.

“I suggest you remove your hand.” Castiel’s voice is lower than usual and half the bar is watching in tense silence.

Gordon laughs, removing his hand and saying, “We were just having some fun, man.”

“Dean did not look to be enjoying your company much.” Castiel growls, eyes flashing like lightning.

“He liked it. Hell, he was practically _asking_ for it.” Gordon leers as he leans toward Dean, hot breath blowing over his freckled face. Dean’s face flushes red from the action.

“Did you ask him to grab you?” Castiel directs this question towards Dean, all seriousness and danger like an oncoming storm.

“Uh, I… I was flirting with him,” Dean mutters ashamedly, averting his eyes.

“Flirting is not the same as consent.” Castiel says. “Did you give him permission to touch you?”

“Uh, no,”

“This is bullshit.” Gordon sneers. “The guy’s a fucking tease. Hell, if you hadn’t tried to be some sort of hero, he’d probably be sucking me off in the bathroom by now.”

Dean’s face is scorching with humiliation and he wants to melt into the floor and disappear forever because now everyone listening can guess his sexuality from this conversation. His cover is blown and Lord knows this Podunk town is going to have a hay-day with this tidbit of gossip. He feels cheap and dirty and used and exposed.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Bar.” Castiel’s voice is deadly, each word laced in venom.

                “ _Gladly_.” Gordon spits, pausing before arrogantly saying, “And one last thing—“ And his hand is on Dean’s ass again and Dean fucking hates it and jerks away from the touch with a startled , “What the hell?!”

                And a fist connects with Gordon’s nose. The cracking sound of the impact is louder than the music and the chattering of the other patrons. Blood immediately gushes from the man’s nostrils as Castiel pulls his fist back, snarling, “Get out.”

                Dean watches as Gordon leaves in a huff, leaving a trail of blood droplets in his wake. The spectators who had been hoping for a fight slowly disperse, going back to whatever they had been doing previously. Gabriel walks over and leans across the bar. “You okay, Cassie?” he asks, looking at Castiel’s hand. “You hit that dude pretty hard.”

                “I’m fine,” Castiel says, shaking his hand out a little.

                Gabriel nods, looking from Cas to Dean before going back to his duties as bartender. Dean looks at Castiel sheepishly and mutters, “You didn’t have to do that.”

                Castiel tilts his head again and replies, “You’re welcome.”

                “Thanks,” Dean says belatedly. “I mean, I don’t… I’m new at this stuff and I don’t know how to…” he waves his hands before just shrugging.

                “Well, for future reference, we are not all like that man.” Castiel says, hands in his pockets as he nods towards the door Gordon had stormed out of.

                “Yeah. Wait. What?” Dean stammers, looking at the bartender. “You’re…?”

                “Gay? Yes.” Castiel says simply, quirking an eyebrow.

                “Uh, wow. Uhm, okay…” Dean stammers, heart flipping. “I’m, uh, well, I was wondering if you are seeing anyone?”

                Castiel’s other eyebrow lifts as well as a surprised look passes over his features.

                “Shit. Sorry, you probably are. I mean, you are _obviously_ seeing someone. Look at you. I’m sorry.”

                “I was unaware you were interested in me,” Castiel gapes.

                “Yeah, well, I suck at emotions and shit.” Dean mumbles.

                “I’m not.”

                “What?”

                “I’m not seeing anyone.”

                “Oh.”

                “I would not mind seeing someone, though.” Castiel says, stepping towards Dean.

                “How about me?” Dean asks breathily, licking his lips.

                “I would especially enjoy that.”

                “Hey, Cas?” Dean breathes, leaning forward slightly. “I fully consent to you touching me right now.”

                And with that, Castiel tosses a set of keys at Gabriel’s head, instructing him to “close the bar” before the two stumble out of the building, pressing against each other, snowflakes falling into their hair as they explore the warm caverns of each other’s’ mouths and Castiel touches Dean tenderly and Dean has no urge to pull away. He presses into Castiel and moans his approval into Castiel's mouth.


End file.
